


Hey, Granger

by amw8in



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, F/M, Head Boy / Head Girl, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amw8in/pseuds/amw8in
Summary: Written for the Strictly Dramione Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2017.Prompt #17: Hermione receives a gift a day for the 12 days of Christmas. But she isn't dating anyone. Who could they be from? Must include a mouse, a pocket watch and a cup of spilled pumpkin juice.





	Hey, Granger

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not J.K.Rowling and I do not own Harry Potter.

14th Dec.

“Hey, Granger, what are you doing?”

Hermione was startled by the voice. She must have completely forgotten she wasn't alone. Looking around the Heads' common room, she noticed there were at least twenty people occupying the spacious lounge, mostly Prefects, but also their friends. They came here to spend some time together, outside of classes, to chat, laugh, and play. She wanted to apologize for maybe disturbing them their afternoon rest, but then she realized no one was paying her any mind, except...

“Oh, I'm sorry, Malfoy. Was I humming too loud for you?” She asked annoyed, her eyes falling on her fellow Head Boy. He was watching her curiously, eyes squinted, head cocked to one side, and she could feel herself blushing slightly under his gaze. “As you can see, I'm decorating the tree,” she said in her best matter-of-factly-tone. “I know Christmas is still 12 days away, but it's such a joyful season, and I love to start it early. I’m sorry if my humming has cost you any disruption,” she huffed.

“Yes, I can see what you're doing,” he said slowly, rolling his eyes. “And I don't mind the humming,” he added. “What I meant to ask was why aren't you using your wand?”

Sudden understanding flicked in her eyes, and her lips formed a quiet “Oh.” She cast a glance at her hands, still holding a colourful ornament. People started to notice the exchange, and she felt slightly embarrassed to be the centre of their attention. “Umm, I was using it, actually, just a few moments before," she explained. "But this last box of baubles is from my mum.” She felt quiet for a moment, gathering courage. “My parents would buy me one every year, starting from the first Christmas since I was born. Each ornament representing a special moment in my life that happened that year. So a cradle for my birthday, baby shoes for my first step, a stack of books for when I've learned to read, an owl for the day I'd gotten the Hogwarts' letter, and so on. I just find it more fitting to put them the Muggle way. It helps me remember them, especially since they still don't remember me...” She trailed off, looking down.

An awkward silence fell all over the room, as no one knew what to say to their Head Girl. No words could possibly correspond with what she must have felt, having to spend Christmas away from home, with the knowledge that even though her parents were alive and safe, they had no idea she even existed.

After a moment of sympathetic stares, they all went back to their previous activities. All except one. Nobody, not even Hermione, who was once again busy with decorating the tree, noticed Draco Malfoy observing her intently, a pensive look on his face.

That evening, just before Hermione went to sleep, she heard a quiet tap on her window. She opened it, and one of the school owls swept in, carrying a small package covered with a Christmas wrapping paper. On top of it was an inscription _“For Hermione Granger, to start the joyful season early”_. Inside the package, she found a wooden box and a note that said _“I know I’m not your parents, and it won’t probably mean much, but it’s something for you to remember this year by - a symbol of wisdom and feminine forces. For defeating Voldemort, for making Head Girl, and for being the brightest witch of our generation.”_ There was no name, no signature, only XXX. She opened the box, and there was a partridge glass ornament. She had no idea who sent it, but suddenly she remembered a Muggle carol, _“On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me a partridge in a pear tree.”_

15th Dec. (day 2)

“Ginny, I think I have a secret admirer.”

It was a sunny day, and most of the students were outside, enjoying the chilly but otherwise pleasant weather. A thin layer of snow was covering the school's grounds, giving it a romantic fairytale look.

The girls were seated on a bench, not far from the Quidditch pitch, waiting for Harry and Ron to finish their practice. The ginger-haired Gryffindor was so surprised by her best friend's latest revelation that she dropped a bag of chocolate frogs, and they were now quickly scattering away.

“Hey, Granger, it looks like your dessert is… deserting!” It was Malfoy. He was passing them by on his way to the pitch. He seemed in a very good mood, probably fuelled by the clever wordplay he was able to coin. “I must say, I'm a bit surprised, though. With the Christmas ball just around the corner, aren't you girls supposed to freak out, and obsessively watch your weight?” He was just teasing, she knew that, but somehow his insinuation she might get fat, and not fit her dress, made her wonder if she really ate too many sweets.

“Ha!” It was Ginny, who got riled by his comment. “It might apply to that fat cow Parkinson, but I'll have you know, Hermione and I have nothing to worry about, as our bodies are more than just fine. Not that you'll ever stand a chance to get even remotely close to finding that out by yourself.”

He just laughed at that and stalked away.

That evening, an owl brought her a set of Dove Signature Truffle Collection. At least someone out there thought her slim enough to enjoy a bit of chocolate every now and then.

16th Dec. (day 3)

It was the day the winter has finally decided to hit full force. Gone was the sun, and the temperature fell far below zero degrees. It was freezing, but no one seemed to notice as they all were too excited to watch the school's most important sports event of the year – the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match.

The stands were full, and the crowd was constantly jumping out of their seats. Both teams were scoring one goal after another, and as always, it was up to the Seekers to ultimately seal the win. When Harry finally caught the Snitch, the whole Gryffindor stand erupted with joy. Everyone was cheering. Well, everyone except Hermione, who by now felt frozen to death. She quickly excused herself and was heading to the castle when she was stopped by a familiar drawl.

“Hey, Granger, aren't you happy your team has won? Or am I to assume you were secretly rooting for the Slytherins?” It was Malfoy. He must have noticed her as she was passing by the changing rooms. He was still sweaty, and his cheeks were red with both the wind and the physical exertion. He came closer and was now looking directly into her eyes, smirking. “Be honest, I won't tell a soul.” Behind him, his whole team snickered with amusement, but all she was able to concentrate on was the heat radiating from his body. For a moment she wanted to hug him, fall into his embrace and get lost in his warmth, but then she caught herself and huffed.

“Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I'm actually very happy Harry beat the shit out of you, again. I'm just celebrating on the inside.” She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets. “If you haven't noticed, it's very cold today, and I’m afraid I must have forgotten to pack my mittens. It would be very hard for me to clap if I can't even feel my fingers.” With that said, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Her secret admirer must have noticed she had to keep her hands in pockets all day, as he sent her the most exquisite black leather gloves. It wasn't until later that she noticed their label - Maison Fabre, a French designer brand.

17th Dec. (day 4)

“Did you know that each year the Great Hall is decorated with the same ornaments as the ones put by the founders on the first Christmas after the school was opened?” She was explaining to the awestruck first-year students, when they approached her the next day after breakfast, asking all kinds of questions on where all the decorations came from, who put them up, or was the snow falling from the enchanted ceiling real. All this time Malfoy was waiting for her by the door, watching the interrogation, amused.

“Hey, Granger, how do you know all that?” He asked her when she was finally able to join him.

“I’ve read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History',” she told him as they were leaving the Great Hall, heading for their meeting with the Headmistress.

“Seriously? You’ve read that?! How many times?” He turned around and was now walking backwards a step ahead of her.

“‘Bout fifty, I guess…”

“Fifty?! Granger, you’re crazy, you know that? Don’t tell me it’s your favourite book!” He was laughing by now, his voice deep and rumbling, and warm. It made her smile.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” she told him, pointing her chin up. “And it’s very useful, you know. As a Head Boy, you should definitely read it.”

“Useful for what? Boring yourself to death?” When she rolled her eyes, he threw his arms to the sides. “Fine! I might give it a try, but only because I don’t like it when you know things that I don’t.” The confession was startling. It was the first time he admitted that he was competing with her intellectually. What’s more, he’s seen her as a tough opponent. “So, when can I borrow your copy? I assume you didn’t read it fifty times by getting it every time out of the library.”

“Unfortunately, you will have to go to Madam Pince. My copy got destroyed during the war,” she explained to him sadly.

“Then it’s bound to stay on my unread list," he shrugged, grinning. “I can’t risk being seen borrowing it from the school’s library. It could destroy my reputation. People might think I’m turning into you.”

They were nearing McGonagall's office, and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at his comment.

“What kind of reputation? Of being illiterate?”

She was still giggling when they stopped in front of the Headmistress office, but her smile quickly faded as he stepped closer, leveling his eyes with hers, their faces mere inches from each other.

“No,” he said, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear, "of being fun.” Then just as quickly, he straightened himself up, took one step away, dropped the password, and disappeared behind McGonagall’s door, leaving her alone in the corridor, slightly panting and very confused.

When an owl brought her a first edition of 'Hogwarts: A History' that evening, signed by the author herself, for a brief moment Hermione wished it came from Malfoy, but she quickly dismissed that silly notion, mumbling to herself “Yeah, right,” before settling under the covers and reading the book for the fifty-first time.

18th Dec. (day 5)

“Hey, Granger, what happened?” he asked from his seat near the fireplace, as she stormed into their common room fuming with anger.

“Ugh! Don’t even get me started. I can’t believe her! Lavender has lost my favourite set of bangle bracelets. I’ve let her borrow them for her date with Dean yesterday, and she just... lost them! All of them! Can you believe it?! How could anyone be so irresponsible? We’ve looked everywhere, asked everyone, they’re gone.” She was on the verge of crying. Not like the bracelets had been expensive or a family heirloom, but they were her favourite. She didn’t wear a lot of jewellery, it wasn’t her thing, really, but this one set was an exception. They were subtle and elegant, went well both with dresses and jeans, and clattered sexily with every move.

“Huh, never pegged you as someone who cares about shiny trinkets, Granger. Guess you _are_ a girl after all,” Malfoy commented from over his book, before looking up and flashing her a big toothy grin. “By the way, the Weaselette has been looking for you,” he informed her while resuming his reading.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll go check what she wanted,” she said and went to the door. “Don’t wait for me,” she called to him jokingly, and he just mumbled something incoherently, engrossed in his book.

An hour later, the girls were sitting on Ginny’s bed, going over every detail they knew about Hermione’s secret admirer.

“Ok. First, he had to be in your common room on the day you were decorating the tree, so he’s at least in his fifth year, probably a Prefect. Then he sent you chocolates, which doesn’t give us any additional information, except that he doesn’t think you're fat.” The redhead winked at her friend. “He also sent you your favourite book and a pair of expensive gloves just when you needed them most, so he not only knows you well, but he must keep an eye on you. I would say he’s very thoughtful and probably have money. I think we can safely exclude my brother. Not only because of the money but, even though he cares a lot, he couldn't buy one romantic gift to save his life.” She snickered.

“Yeah, I would also leave Harry out. He’s totally smitten with you, and you’re probably the only person he wishes to shower with gifts until the end of his life.” Hermione looked at the youngest Weasley, and smiled when she saw that Ginny had blushed.

“What about Malfoy?”

“What about him?” Hermione asked confused, but then the implication of the question hit her, and she shook her head. “No. Definitely not him.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Hermione was irritated that her friend would even insinuate the possibility. “He’s Malfoy and… It just can’t be him. He might not be as vile and cruel as he used to be, and he was cleared from all the charges from the war, came back to Hogwarts, and even got himself the Head Boy title, but he’s still snarky and sarcastic, and he definitely doesn’t like me this way,” Hermione admitted with resignation, and although she would never say it out loud, wished she wasn’t so sure.

“If you say so. But in that case, I have no idea who could it be. There are endless possibilities. It might be Neville, but it can also be Zabini, or even Nott.” The redhead sighed with resignation.

“I know, Ginny. And I don’t think we’ll figure it out tonight. I’m not even sure I want to know. What if I don’t like that person? All those presents... He had to put much thought into it. And I don’t think it’s the end. I think he’s trying to recreate the 'Twelve Days of Christmas' song. I'm excited to find out what he’ll come up with next, but at the same time I'm scared what will happen at the end…”

When Hermione came back to her room that night, a package was already waiting for her on her bed. Inside she found a gold bracelet made of five wavy rings. The Tiffany logo was staring at her from the lid. The tag informed her that it was designed by ELSA PERETTI®. Unconsciously she looked in the direction of Malfoy’s room, shook her head, closed the box, and went to sleep.

19th Dec. (day 6)

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” a collective high-pitched shriek rang through the seventh- and eight-years’ classroom. It was enough for one of the girls to notice the mouse, and suddenly all of them were jumping from their seats and hopping on the closest object that would put them far enough from the ground.

“Hey, Granger,” she heard from somewhere below. Looking down, her eyes met grey ones that were staring at her with a mixture of laughter and disbelief. “I think it’s eating your quill.”

Hermione didn’t notice she somehow ended up standing on top of Draco Malfoy’s desk and that he could easily look under her skirt, or that her favourite quill has fallen on the ground and was currently being devoured by the little furry monster. She cursed inwardly and crouched down on the table, much to the amusement of a certain blond Slytherin, to try and somehow shoo the mouse away. It wasn’t working!

Seeing her best and most mature students acting in such a childish way made Professor McGonagall cringe. She stupefied the animal and asked Neville Longbottom to take it outside the castle, then lift the curse, and set the creature free. She didn’t even wait for the girls to reclaim their seats before, heaving a sigh, she resumed the lesson.

Hermione couldn’t focus, and not because she felt embarrassed for behaving the way she did in front of her favourite professor, or because of the loss of her best quill. She sat in her seat, blushing furiously, unable to think straight, all because Draco Malfoy had held out his hand to help her get down from his desk and it made her tingle in all the right places.

She was still surprised when the evening owl has brought her a very hard-to-come-by Thoughts-Capturing Quill. She knew it must have cost a lot, as it was quite rare, and the magic in it was of a very precise kind. It was similar to Quick-Quotes Quills, but it was free from any distortions, and you only had to think what you wished to be written down.

20th Dec. (day 7)

“Hey, Granger, have you seen... What on earth are you wearing?!”

“These are ballet shoes,” she explained, but seeing his dumbfounded expression she had to ask, “You know what's a ballet, right?”

“Of course I know what's a ballet,“ he scoffed at her. “I just didn't know you could dance.”

“Hardly. My mum used to send me to ballet classes when I was a little girl, but I had to stop dancing when I came to Hogwarts. It didn't change the fact that I just love the ballet. All my friends know I could watch it over and over again, and then, when I'm alone, I would try to recreate the steps. See?” She demonstrated him classical pas de chat, but then remembered it was Malfoy she was talking to, and she quickly composed herself. “Did you want to ask me something?”

“What? No. Never mind, forget it,” he said quickly before retreating back to his room, an unreadable expression on his face.

That night her heart was pounding wildly as she re-read the note that was attached to her present. _“Hermione, will you do me the honour of accompanying me to a ballet? I will pick you up, Christmas Day at 8 p.m. Yours, XXX”_. She looked at the music box in her hand. Inside was a ballerina that would spin to a tune from 'Swan Lake'.

21st Dec. (day 8)

“Hey, Granger, sleepy much?” Malfoy’s voice woke her from her slumber. She didn’t notice she was slowly dozing off, and in a middle of a Prefects meeting of all things. She blushed instantly, apologizing to everyone. She was exhausted, as she had spent almost the whole previous night thinking about her secret admirer, and didn’t get enough of sleep. Malfoy was looking at her questioningly, and judging by his sneer, evidently offended that she would fall asleep during his speech. She instantly sat straight, giving him a tight smile.

“Forgive me, with all those last minute changes, ball preparations, and school, I must be somehow overworked. It won’t happen again, I promise. Please, continue,” she gestured for him to go on, but he didn’t look convinced. After scrutinising her for a brief second, he went back to explaining once again the minute by minute plan for the ball.

Her admirer had also noticed her tiredness and decided to treat her to a spa. She decided that, with the ball only two days away, a bit of beauty treatment was in order. First thing tomorrow she would go to McGonagall and ask for a permission to leave the school. She could already feel her body relaxing as she thought about a massage and a milk bath.

22nd Dec. (day 9)

When she came back from her visit to the Klaudd day spa in London, she found Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini playing wizarding chess in the common room.

“Afternoon, Granger,” said Zabini. “Had a nice day? You look… refreshed,” he grinned almost knowingly but was soon brought back to his game by Malfoy checking his king. Hermione thanked him for his compliment and didn’t notice the warning look exchanged by the boys.

“Hey, Granger,” Malfoy called after her when she turned around to head into the small kitchenette adjoining the common room. “She-Weasel is waiting for you. I’ve let her into your room, but if she pissed on your bed, it’s not my fault.”

“Oh, Ginny, I’ve totally forgotten about her,” she gasped and ran to her room, leaving the two snickering Slytherins behind her.

She found the youngest redhead sitting on her bed, a cup of pumpkin juice in one hand, browsing through the newest edition of “Witch Weekly”. Seeing Hermione she almost jumped in the air.

“Where were you? What happened? Spill everything!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement as Hermione told her about the bracelet, the quill, the spa, the music box, and finally the date.

“And you’re still sure it’s not Malfoy?”

“Positive.”

“Fine. Guess we’ll find out who it is in 3 days. So, what are you going to wear?”

Hermione’s eyes widened, she hadn't really thought about it. “Maybe I could wear the same dress robes I’ll be wearing for the ball?” She asked with hesitation, having no other idea.

Ginny’s expression was one of distaste, but then she shrugged it off, “The guy probably won’t notice anyway. You know how they can’t even tell a skirt from a dress. Show me then!”

Hermione put on the robes, and they tried different hairstyles and accessories, but then…

“GINNY WEASLEY!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU SPILLED PUMPKIN JUICE ON MY DRESS!”

The scream rang throughout the whole Heads’ quarters, and the next thing Blaise and Draco saw, was an angry Head Girl running for the door, guilty-looking Ginny in tow. “Get out!” She ordered.

“Granger, that dress looks... stunning on you,” Zabini said, looking at the big stain on her chest, and Malfoy didn’t have time to warn him it might not be so wise to comment.

“You!” The look she sent Blaise could probably freeze hell. “Get out too!” She pointed to the exit. “And Malfoy,” she gritted. “Don’t you even dare say a word.” With that said she disappeared into her room, slamming the door.

She was smart, of course, well-educated, and a Head Girl, but the next day there was a Christmas Ball that she was supposed to open with Malfoy. Not to mention that in three days she had a date, and now the dress she was planning to wear for both events was ruined. The stain would not leave, not with magic nor the Muggle way, and there was no time to shop for new robes either. She wanted to cry. She was a girl, and she just wanted to look nice. Was it too much to ask? She spent the rest of the evening huddled on her bed, fighting the tears.

Just before midnight, a large owl flew into her bedroom, carrying a large box with it. Seeing the beautiful set of light blue dress robes, she was so relieved, she didn’t stop to question how it was possible for him to know she would need them. She just assumed Ginny told everyone what happened. She also didn’t dwell on how he would know her size, and how he would get them so fast. It was better to think him romantic and thoughtful than stalking.

23rd Dec. (day 10)

The whole day was a frenzy. The craziness had overcome the whole castle, and it was safer to stay in her room with a book than to hear another conversation about hair or makeup.

An hour before the ball Hermione started to get ready. She pulled her hair in a chignon, donned some makeup, and put on her new dress robes. She twirled in front of her mirror. Perfect.

When she stepped into the corridor something weird happened. A boy from Hufflepuff, whose name she didn’t know, bowed in front of her, greeting her “Milady”. The next one she passed on her way to the Great Hall did the same. Each boy or man that she met, bowed to her and called her “Milady”. When she reached the entrance to the Great Hall, she was blushing from all the attention. Malfoy was already waiting for her. When he spotted her, he bowed like those before him, but instead of just calling her “Milady”, he reached out and kissed her on the hand. Straightening up, he offered her his arm.

“Hey, Granger, you ready?” He asked, before guiding her inside to lead the first dance.

24th Dec. (day 11)

Boarding the Hogwarts Express, she thought with disappointment that she probably won’t get any more presents. She already got used to the idea of a new surprise waiting for her each evening, more curious than anything about what her secret admirer would come up with next.

Arriving at the King Cross, the last thing for her to do before going to the Burrow, was to make sure all the younger students were safely picked up by their parents. When the last minor left the platform, she bid her goodbyes to the Prefects and turned to leave when she heard Malfoy’s voice. She didn’t notice him approaching her, and hearing his familiar drawl, her heart fluttered.

“Hey, Granger, Merry Christmas,” he said, and before she could respond, he winked at her and disapparated.

Holidays with the Weasleys were joyful and loud. She could swear they did nothing else than ate and laughed. It was nearing midnight on Christmas Eve when George suddenly stood up from the table, took out his pocket watch, checked the time and cleared his throat.

“May I have your attention, please?” He bellowed and everyone fell silent. “Hermione, this one is for you,” he looked at her and started to sing, “When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we’ll see…”

George was singing 'Stand by me', and Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes, or ears, especially when not only was he joined by his twin brother Fred, but also by Charlie, Bill and Percy, then Harry and Ron, and finally even Arthur.

“What is all of this?” She asked when they finished.

“As you know, at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes we sell those singing telegrams that are a modified version of the Muggle ones, as they are in a form of a charm," George explained. "If you buy it, it would make other people sing or do other silly stuff for the person the telegram is intended for. If they don’t, they get an itchy rash. You can personalize the telegram as much as you want, and decide who would deliver to whom and what. The telegrams are short, no more than one song or a gesture. You’ve already received one, on the evening of the ball, with all the guys bowing in front of you. And today we were asked to deliver you a song. I guess it has to be from your secret admirer,” he looked at Ginny as if to explain how he knew that. “But unfortunately, we can’t tell you who it is, as the order came anonymously by owl.”

25th Dec. (day 12)

That was it. It was today. Her date. She would finally meet her secret admirer. She was both terrified and excited. What if it was all a joke? What if she didn't like him?...

“How do I look?” She asked Ginny.

“You look perfect,” the redhead answered with a smile. “Come on, it’s already 8. He should be here by now. I think I’ve heard voices in the hall.”

Hermione was barely able to walk down the stairs, her legs were shaking so violently. When she finally found herself in the living room, her eyes fell on his face.

“Hey, Granger, you look stunning,” Malfoy smiled at her, and she could swear her knees buckled a little.

“You? It was you all along?” Her heart was beating wildly and she still couldn’t believe it was him.

“I told you so,” said Ginny.

“Guilty.” He was ginning by now. “Come on,” he said, extending his arm to her. “I’m taking you to see the wizarding version of 'The Nutcracker'. You wouldn’t want to be late now, would you?” He smiled at her as she took his hand. “Mr and Mrs Weasley, it was nice seeing you. Potter, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, I promise to drop her off by midnight.” He then looked her in the eyes and asked “You ready? Everything ok?”

“Yes,” she told him. Then she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, and together they disapparated.


End file.
